


Mycroft's Heart

by blackcrystaly



Series: Holmes' Heart [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, M/M, Romance, Several references to Conan Doyle, betaed!, dirty talking, mentions of adultery, tags belong to the whole of the series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:36:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mummy Holmes always told her children that one day they too would find someone who would love them.<br/>Mycroft and Sherlock had been waiting for that to happen.<br/>And now, so many years after the younger Holmes tells his brother about a man that had been letting him in on cases, he of course decides to check on the detective inspector and kidnaps him, little he know it would be the man who would rob his heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first meeting

**Author's Note:**

> So, here it is, my very first, honest to God, Mystrade.  
> Johnlock would come later.  
> Hope you like it...  
> I want to thank Miss Katrina and Leah_Ester for being wonderful betas! All remaining mistakes are my own.

Mycroft wasn’t a selfless man. Of course he cared about the United Kingdom and was ready to do what he had to do to ensure its peace and wealth. But he wasn’t above pulling rank and using his position to get himself a little something here and there; never too much or too often. He knew better than to risk everything he had worked for in such a way.

Not a week ago his sweet brother—no matter what any other lesser being thought Sherlock was still the most beautiful person the Holmes household had given to the world—had told him of one of those strange creatures who seemed to actually appreciate the tall brunette. A detective inspector willing to let the consulting detective work with him to investigate cases without having to break into the crime scenes or end up in jail because he pissed off the barely competent yarder in charge. Though, they soon learned that arresting the young man and treating him with less than the outmost care would only result in those responsible being put under internal review, saddled with months of deskwork and sometimes subjected to minor problems with taxes and other such equally unpleasant things.

The "civil servant" was very protective of the little jewel that was his younger sibling. He so wanted to convince him to return home and be safe that some days he felt sorely tempted to kidnap Sherlock and simply locking him up inside the mansion where they had been raised. After all, there he could run all the experiments he wanted, since their parents had built him a lab when they found out the little tricks he had being pulling in the kitchen. And Mycroft could certainly arrange for a private morgue and let him play with corpses to his heart’s desire.

What was so good about the outside world, after all? Why would Sherlock insist on working with the police force when he could do so much more in the secret service if adventure was what called to him? Mycroft could certainly provide that, too.

He would never understand what drove the brunette to go and expose himself to a lot of incredibly dull, boring, predictable, and intolerant people who would never understand the brilliant mind, the free spirit, his brother was.

Some days, while he fought off yet another headache induced by some individuals who didn’t understand the basics of home politics or geopolitical strategy but were still new enough to think they could ignore his advice, he wondered if maybe it was the spotlight that his brother needed, like their great grandfather so many centuries ago.

Their family had been in control of the British Government since the 19th century at least—and he sometimes wondered if not before—when the first Mycroft Holmes walked the cold corridors of Whitehall and created the Diogenes Club. That was the man he had modeled himself after. His parents had obviously chosen well when they named him. It could be possible that they had been spot on with Sherlock, too. That’s why they had chosen to go with their mother’s last name as well, since they felt it was fitting.

Anyways, this Gregory Lestrade, Detective Inspector at NSY seemed to be different somehow. He was actually encouraging Sherlock to shake that unhealthy drug habit he had. Even though Mycroft could understand that his brother was like no other addict it still didn’t make it any easier to see him destroy that wonderful mind of his out of simple boredom. That was one of the few reasons that prevented him from forcing Sherlock to go home and stay there.

That effort alone gained the yarder a few points in Mycroft’s consideration, enough for him to consider permitting the man to remain close to his sibling. But it also made him very wary of the association. The now consulting detective hadn’t had many friends while growing up since they weren’t like anybody else. One, or ten, of those people who had gotten close to the formerly naïve, younger Holmes and whom he had failed to research deeply enough had been nothing but bad news. They had used and abused his brother’s natural good predisposition and as a result the man had become their resource for turning their homework in on time among the other things they used him for.

It had been stopped by their father when the man found out. And even though no one said anything to him, Mycroft felt it was a personal failure that he had allowed things to go so far. But he had been so happy that Sherlock was interacting with other kids of his age… The books he had been reading said it was a good thing for his normal development! And that right there had been his mistake, as his mother softly told him, not in the least disappointed.

“You and Sherlock are like nobody else in the world, my dear _. Normal_ will never be your thing… it has never been the Holmes’ thing.”

And that was it. He had understood and never again let his brother down in that capacity. He carefully ‘investigated’ every person that Sherlock became too attached to. And once he had enough power, had put them under surveillance and tested them. Sometimes, even though he hated legwork, he’d talk to them _in person_. A report couldn’t quite reveal some things about some people, and he needed the exercise, occasionally, sparingly. Maybe he would have to do it with this “silver fox” as he was nicknamed by his own team members.

*****

The detective inspector wasn’t very impressed by him, that much was obvious. Anthea had picked him up in one of the black cars the moment he had stepped out of the station. The man hadn’t so much as protested according to the text that the woman sent him while they were on their way to the warehouse. That was somewhat suspicious. Maybe Sherlock had warned him of the imminent encounter? He had done so to quite a few, less than pleasant, acquaintances. He had a positive gift for making things unnecessarily complicated for himself and others.

“So, you are the _infamous_ Mycroft Holmes,” he said, full of confidence, the moment he got out of the vehicle and made a quick check of his surroundings.

The umbrella carrying man stopped dead in his tracks, moderately impressed by the shorter man. But he made sure to hide it and simply nodded, already deciding that this meeting wouldn’t go according to his first plan. It was time to take another course of action and let the man show his true colors by letting him talk. It was obvious that this was someone used to being in charge, one for action rather than thought.

“You are shorter that I imagined… and less... _bulky_.”

The other went on, his words falling on the taller quietly. It was obvious that his little brother had been speaking about him again, not that he was bothered by that. They had gotten their stories straight years ago.

With a little knowing smile to let the yarder know that he knew what the yarder was talking about, he let his eyes take in the entirety that was Gregory Lestrade.

“You are doing that thing you Holmes’ do, right? So, _out with it. Tell me what you see_.” Now he made it sound like a challenge, and his whole posture changed. He took off the sunglasses he had been wearing, spreading his legs and arms, palms raised to the ginger haired man, making the reading easier.

Mycroft never lied to himself, and he was ready to admit that he was impressed. Truly so. This man seemed suspiciously comfortable around him, which wasn’t a usual occurrence. But there was more, he didn’t seem put off by Mycroft’s capabilities. Of course he wouldn’t be the kind of man who would get horribly offended at being observed and deduced. That much was obvious if he was willing to work with his sibling, but… he seemed to almost _enjoy_ it.

He could see so many things that the other wouldn’t like to hear. That his marriage was failing because he was falling out of love with his wife. And said woman was having not one but several affairs, though there was one man she favored. He’d had several trysts before getting married, not all with women, which was interesting since that had never gone in the file Mycroft had been given. That the house he lived in was not big enough for his tastes nor was it painted in a color he liked and it had stopped feeling like home a year ago. He was pulling far too many extra hours so that he could afford another place if things got worse but no one at his work knew anything about it so they simply thought he was either very ambitious or a workaholic; some of them even though he was already single or divorced. There were so many things he could still see on the man that would make him squirm just by hearing it. But it wasn’t the time or the place.

“Unlike my brother, I’m a very private man, Detective Inspector. And I don’t think that going out there telling the whole world the most secret things about people is the right way to establish any kind of relationship,” he said at last.

“Yeah, well, he can't help it, can he?” The man asked almost resigned, relaxing back to an easy pose. So his sibling had told him some of the less pleasant things he had seen. “ _Still_ , I was hoping you would tell me what I had for lunch or something like that… Anything that wouldn’t be in the report I’m sure you’ve memorized.”

Mycroft smiled at being challenged, again, by this not–so–young man, who had clearly gained Sherlock’s trust. Or his sibling wouldn’t have gone as far as telling him that the older Holmes used to get dossiers on the people he consorted with.

“If you insist, Detective Inspector…” He let himself sound resigned.

“ _Greg_ ,” the man insisted. “I do have a name.”

He was a little bothered by the way this man didn’t let him get the upper hand. And yet… it was strangely refreshing. He nodded courteously.

“Of course, _Gregory_.”

“Greg.”

“Your name is Gregory; I’m only abiding by your request,” he insisted with a playful smile. It has been so long since he met someone this _interesting_. Painfully normal, but interesting nonetheless. Maybe Mummy was right all along. Holmeses tended to fall for the ones that are drawn to them, those who are like nobody else, yet so in touch with the rest of the masses that it’s almost painful.

*****

“It was like that between your father and me,” she had said one night, while her husband smiled at his wife and two children. “He would come to see me every two days at the office, except when he was abroad, and bring me _flowers_ because they made him remember my eyes or something equally stupid…”

“Still you kept the forget-me-nots…” he said with soft eyes, obviously remembering the special occasion when his shrew had been a little tamed for him.

She gave him one of her rare, sincere, full-lipped smiles that only her mate and children could get from her.

“As I was saying, _painfully common-place_ , yet… When there was a strange, difficult case he would come to me and ask for my advice, even though I didn’t even work in the same department.”

“You were always right. It was almost infuriating!” He confessed, his eyes shining with happiness at those old days.

“That’s what my old chief used to say. He hated the fact that I was the one with the most successful solve rate.”

He used to say many worse things than that of course, they all knew it. And that was why, when things got objectionable, their father had forcefully taken their mother away from all that and offered her another job at MI5, only to find she had been the British Government he had vowed to protect all along. He had given a whole new meaning to his promise ever since.

“One day, both of you will find that special, absolutely unassuming, almost idiotic person who’ll make you _feel_ ,” she said the word almost distastefully, but her eyes betrayed her emotion. “And it will be terrifying and dangerous… and irresistible.” The way she said it, the way her whole body seemed to change let the boys knew that it wasn’t a bad thing. She had never regretted saying _I do_ to James and having her wonderful Mycroft and her lovely Sherlock and made damn sure they knew it.

*****

Mycroft had been expecting for that to happen ever since. And he knew that Sherlock had too. Once again, maybe that was what had called the brunette away from their old house, the need to find that special someone Mummy told them about. But right then and there wasn’t the time to think about all that.

“You had a cheap burger and a bottle of water, later you bought a coffee to go and one of your men bought you something sweet to go with it,” he informed the man succinctly.

“So it’s true, you _do_ control the CCTV camera system…” the yarder whispered. “And here I thought that Sherlock was just magnifying you… or losing it completely,” he finished a little dubious.

“Yes I do,” the older Holmes confirmed. After all, there was really no point in denying it. “But that’s not how I could tell, my dear Gregory.” The endearment hadn't been planned; however, he was not taking it back. Let the man deal with it.

The older man blushed. Now, that was something Mycroft wasn’t expecting in the least.

“I believe you,” he assured. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, _Mycroft Holmes_ , but, I would like to know why you felt the need to kidnap and bring me here, when a simple invitation for a cup of coffee would have sufficed if you wanted to talk about your brother.”

He actually liked the way his name sounded on Lestrade’s lips. He didn’t say it like a curse or as if he had tasted something distasteful. It was a statement. Just a name but more than a name.

Again, he was taken aback by this man's boldness. He wasn’t used to it, but he didn’t loathe it either. Still, he could tell that the consulting detective had a lot to do with how things were happening. He couldn’t understand why Sherlock had felt the need to do it; to reveal so much about his particular way of ensuring his sibling’s safety.

He smiled and let the umbrella’s tip rest on the floor near his right feet.

“Had I done so, would you have come at all, Gregory?” He was enjoying the use of the other's name, too.

“Of course I would have! It’s your brother, and considering some of his poor choices so far, I can get why you feel the need to check up on those who get anywhere near him!”

“He told you.” It was a statement.

“Yes. Along with many other _less pleasant_ things about my own life that I really didn’t feel inclined to discuss with anyone.”

“Charming conversation that must have been…”

“Try more like a whole very loud monologue on Sherlock’s part and me listening to him while flushing away his cocaine stash.”

The man was either fearless or suicidal! Nobody dared to do that anymore. The last person who tired had to be hospitalized for several weeks and was still seeing a therapist.

That was a very noble, if foolish, thing to do.

He admitted that he was beginning to fall for the man, but it was too soon, too fast...

“I suppose he wasn’t happy about it.”

“Yeah, well, I’d had enough. He could chose, give it to me and have access to some interesting cold cases or keep it and forgo being called in for the next couple of months.” He was terribly serious now. He would have done it, without a shadow of a doubt.

“Sometimes my brother needs to let go, Gregory. I don’t like it either, mind you, but from time to time being without anything to do is just too much for him. And that’s the only reason he uses that seven per cent solution of his.”

“I’m a police officer and I won’t let him use in front of _me_ , I don’t care how useful he is to solve murders. That shit will end up frying his brain, which is a no win if you ask me.”

Mycroft wasn’t going to do such a thing.

So, his brother had been testing his limits with the other man. Trying to consume in front of a yarder was simply a way to try and know when he would put his foot down. Still, he didn’t like that he had taken such a stupid risk. Yet, it was so like his careless brother that Mycroft couldn’t really find it in himself to get mad. Sherlock had been hurt enough times that he’d be an idiot not to try and protect himself by testing people’s limits around him. It was a horrible defense mechanism, but it was the only one he had come up with.

“ _You really worry about him..._ ” Mycroft said more to himself than to the other.

“ _Of course I do!_ ” The man sounded almost offended. “He is a proper genius, even if he has the emotional growth of a five year old most of the time. And he could be doing so many things with his life but chooses to help solve crimes. And it’s not like we even pay him!”

Lestrade was full of surprises. He saw Sherlock almost as a son and was concerned about his well-being, which was kind of touching. Definitely, the path to the British Government’s heart was through his brother.

“You let him work with you, Gregory, for him that’s a reward in itself.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes it’s not enough. Look, it’s obvious none of you need the money. But what he does, he deserves better than some of the things people throw at him.”

He really had to make an effort to refrain from going over and _kissing_ the man! That emotion was so alien to him, so weird that he couldn’t remember himself for a second...

“He is unique. And people usually dislike what they can’t control.”

“So are you. _Unique_ , I mean.” The detective said so softly. But those words seemed to affect the red headed, slightly taller man. “And, yet, you look better adjusted than he does; except for the kidnapping people part, that is.”

The older Holmes laughed, hard. He couldn’t help it. Who flirted with the brother of a self-proclaimed sociopath, a man who had entirely too much power?

“Next time then, a dinner invitation will suffice?” He asked once his body stopped trembling.

Lestrade nodded too quickly for it to be a conscious movement, but it told Mycroft everything he needed to know. This man wanted him, in a non-platonic, very much earthy way. And for the very first time since he had lost his virginity he found himself returning the feeling with enthusiasm.

But then, something brought a dark light to the other’s usually calm eyes. A storm was brewing and Holmes had a pretty good idea of what was wrong with him. Still, he knew that he had to let the other show his hand before he addressed the little matter that would be presented to him.

“I’m a _married_ man,” the NSY man said after a moment of hesitation.

“Yes, you are, but unless I’m very much mistaken… and I _rarely_ am, it won’t last thru next month. You know of your wife’s infidelity. You yourself are tired of trying to make things work when it’s so obvious that whatever brought you two together at first is no longer there. I can wait, Gregory.”

The silver fox looked at him, part amazed and part annoyed. And just then, another thing appeared in his eyes, a light that made him change his whole posture once more.

“Just so we’re clear… your dinner invitation… it won’t _all_ be about Sherlock, right?”

“Of course not,” the older Holmes answered simply.

He could observe a certain uncertainty in those clear orbs. He was thinking about his age, his failed marriage, the fear that Mycroft could be using him, playing with him, and making him believe that there was more in his invitation than a shared meal.

There was only one way to put a stop to such a sad train of thoughts. He finally gave in to his desire and walked to the other.

Lestrade seemed a bit skittish but didn’t take a step back, so the taller man put his free hand at the other’s nape and pulled their mouths together. The police officer resisted barely a moment before parting his lips and letting the other in, while his arms wrapped around the slim waist of the British Government.

A shiver of desire ran through the umbrella carrying man. The one holding him was special. He had to be treasured, kept safe... This was his man.

They separated a second later and the older Holmes looked at the darkening orbs of the yarder. He read the want, the _hunger_ there, and smiled, hoping it was seductive but pressed his fingers over the NSY detective's lips.

“Once you are a free man, my dear… _not a second_ _before that_.”

Mummy and Dad had raised two proper boys, even if just one of them played the part. Moreover, he wasn’t letting the honest man the other was act in a way that would be their end sooner rather than later. No, they would wait until the silver fox was divorced and then… they would be together in every sense of the word.

The smaller one nodded, and Mycroft removed his fingers.

Lestrade's hands refused to let the other man go. He seemed to be pondering his chances at getting another soul-searching kiss from the older Holmes.

The “civil servant” was truly tempted to let him have what he wanted. But it wasn't in their best interest, so he placed both his hands against the other's chest, letting him feel the body of his umbrella pressed against it.

“Gregory, I’m very sorry to say this but we are both very busy men and should go back to our respective jobs.”

Lestrade looked almost disappointed, and for a moment, he thought of not letting go, but then he remembered himself. He would not be a dirty little secret when he could be the owner of this wonderful creature.

Mycroft gave a little push and the other finally freed him.

He moved a couple of steps before hearing the silver haired man calling to him.

“At least give me your phone number!” He shouted.

The older Holmes turned around and smiled at the man. Giving away his private contact number was going to be a mistake, and he rarely made them… But as his mother had once told him; sometimes he had to go a step out of his usual way if he wanted to gain something.

“You can not retrieve gold from the river without getting wet…” she used to say.

Of course, Sherlock used it as an excuse for the most daring adventures they had gone on together while still young. And he still did a little bit more exercising and his brother was a little less enthusiastic about running and jumping from roof to roof.

He took his mobile from his suit and typed easily enough. A second later, the yarder retrieved his own phone and saved the number.

“Now, I believe, it’s time we part ways, Gregory.”

And without any more words he walked away, knowing perfectly well that the other would be taken back to the station by his chauffer.


	2. Miscommunication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Miss Katrina and Leah_Ester for being such amazing betas!  
> Also as it have been pointed out to me Mycroft is taller than Gregory on BBC Sherlock, so I went back and changed that. If you catch any other mistake like that please, let me know, I'll thank you greatly!

The first text came exactly one hour after they had parted ways. Mycroft had been only half expecting it.

**Thanks for the ride. Would’ve been better with you there. GL**

The words made him blush. Something about the message made him think of carnal actions that could have taken place in back of the black car that had transported his Detective Inspector. The thought made him smile.

Mummy had been right after all, there was someone out there for every Holmes. And he had finally found him; before his little brother, but only thanks to him… Maybe that was exactly why Sherlock had told his older sibling about the man. And the reason the consulting detective had warned and prepared the silver fox for their encounter. There was no doubt in his mind; Sherlock had done those things for the both of them.

The younger was the one who had taken after their father; the wanderlust, the caring about other people, the absolute disregard for authority… That’s how their father had been able to meet and keep their mother.

Many people could say that everything was going too fast, that it was too soon, too fresh, but he knew better. After all, he made his living by analyzing almost unrelated facts and tying them together to give less bright minds than his and Sherlock's a fair enough idea of what to expect, how to act, when to pull, how far to push.

**You’re welcome. And I don’t know about that. MH**

Mycroft tried to keep his answer simple, since the man had just left his sight. And it was only natural for Greg to write something polite to the person who had returned him to his work instead of forcing him to pay for a cab, as Mycroft had sometimes done to other less-than-pleasing members of his sibling's acquaintances.

Moreover, the detective’s words could mean too many different things all at once. So he didn’t want to give too much away this early in the game.

He knew that soon enough Gregory would reach the same conclusions Mycroft had about the state of his marriage being well and truly over, after a brief attempt to regain his wife’s affection out of to a sense of guilt over his lust for the older Holmes, of course. A week or so later Gregory would try to convince himself that what he felt for Mycroft during their brief encounter had been all in his mind and the ginger haired man knew he could do something about that by letting the man know they still had dinner pending and maybe flirting for little bit. Finally, he would contact a divorce lawyer to get free of that shameful relationship he was in. There again Mycroft could do something to ensure that his soon-to-be lover would get a fair deal.

Mycroft couldn’t help himself. When he cared about someone he would go out of his way to make sure that person was safe, sound and happy. It was only natural for him to try and protect the man he had decided on, even though they weren't even dating yet.

**We could have kissed in the back of your car. GL**

The man was no doubt upping the ante. And it made the British Government a little uncomfortable. Gregory wasn’t acting as he had predicted. He didn’t seem to be feeling guilty, confused or doubtful. Maybe the state of his marriage was even worse than Mycroft had first concluded? Somehow, he couldn’t see the man as someone who would deceive the person he seriously loved.

**Most certainly not. MH**

He typed with his usual precision and tried to go back to the files he had been reading. The "civil servant" that he was had to solve this little trifle by the weekend if he wanted to keep several MI6 operations running smoothly and without casualties. It was not the time to keep talking with a man who had a life to sort out before he could be truly claimed by the older Holmes as his own.

Obviously the yarder had other plans, as he found out when his phone vibrated once more. For a moment he thought of ignoring it, but he really wanted to know what the silver fox had come up with.

**Why? I know you wanted to, back at your place. GL**

That message made him stop dead in his tracks. No one had called him on a bluff before. He had been a most prized poker player, had tricked politicians and spies, made fun of body language readers and profilers and this simple man had seen through his carefully constructed mask enough to call him on his lie.

**As you told me, you are married man, Gregory. MH**

The truth would have to do. With that, he decided, the matter was closed and he could go back to the reports before the head of the Secret Service felt the need to call him, again. That woman thought that he would work faster if she was breathing down his neck several times a week. Good thing was she was about to be removed since the little scoundrel had been passing classified information to her husband, a politician who was using it to advance on his career. Blackmailers weren’t something he could abide.

Still, he would have to endure another week or so before she could be taken down.

A brief knock on the door of his office let him know that Anthea was back.

“Come in, my dear,” he said kindly.

She walked in with some files in her hands that had undoubtedly been picked up the moment she had returned and was scanning through them swiftly.

“S called. She wants to know if you had the plan for the Scapegoat, Chandelier and the Greek Interpreter missions. Also she is asking for clearance for her husband to go with her to Venice next week.”

“I’ll send her the plans by morning, since there are several variables to be studied and I’m waiting for agent 005 to report. About the travel, implement protocol 2890 on my authority, put the Office 9 on alert and contact sir James Damery. It will be best to let him be the one to deliver the news to her.”

“Yes, sir,” she said. Then she scanned through her PDA one last time with her free hand and spoke to him before going. “Your brother’s living expenses are due again, sir.”

Sherlock never bothered with mundane things such as paying the rent, or buying food... One of these days, if Mycroft didn't gave in to the temptation to take him back home he would have to get Sherlock a flatmate or something of the kind. Someone who could take care of those pesky little things that had to be done every single month and sometimes even weekly, like the shopping. Still, he didn't quite like the idea of introducing Sherlock to any of the people he worked with... And he wasn't really sure it would be for the best to force the issue now that his sibling seemed to be trying to make a path for himself as the only consulting detective in the world.

“I’ll take care of it,” he said courteously, letting her know that was all.

She turned around and left the office without another word ready to comply with her orders.

The moment he was left alone, he picked again his phone, knowing he had a message waiting to be opened. It had come in right after his PA so he hadn’t had the time to read it.

**You knew that when you gave me that little taste of yourself and left me wanting more. GL**

The text was… strange. It was flirtatious and teasing but also kind of hot, without being vulgar. He could feel his mind taking a sexual turn once more. Heat ran through his veins and he could feel his body—transport, as Sherlock used to call it—respond to the ideas that were appearing in his mind. He could almost taste the detective on his mouth again, the pressure of his arms around his waist…

Mycroft forced himself to stop that venue of thought before it get too far. He was no teenager who couldn’t control his baser instincts.

 _Work comes first_ , he reminded himself.

What would Mummy if think she knew that her oldest son, her heir, had been letting his feelings and emotions run wild while there were still operations to direct, audits to make, traitors to take care of?

Still, his fingers ached for the chance to answer the other man; to have the last word. It had been so long since someone excited him in any way. A little text wouldn’t take that much time…

**Detective, don’t you have any cases to solve? MH**

He knew the yarder was dealing with at least two murders—one of them had Sherlock’s interest—a robbery and a week or so of paperwork that needed to be sorted out. So it was obvious that the man couldn’t take his text the wrong way and would understand his words for what they were, a call to go back to his duty and let Mycroft fulfill his.

The vibration of his phone no more than three seconds later told him that he had been wrong somewhere. He had _two_ incoming texts now as opposed to just one, wonderful. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to take it graciously.

**Bothering you, am I? GL**

The first text had the older Holmes nodding almost unconsciously. Of course the detective inspector was disrupting his activities. He had told the man, in no uncertain terms, that he had to go back to his job. So how was his question relevant?

He fought the instinct of telling him that much in favor of reading the other message. That proved to be his second mistake in so many hours concerning Gregory Lestrade.

**Sorry, it’s just I can’t stop thinking about your lips… hot ginger fox that you are. GL**

That was it. He _blushed_ , furiously. He could feel his cheeks getting redder than ever before. It made him think of the first time he had been naked in front of a lover. He felt just as exposed, as unarmed.

How could a man he didn't even know that well yet make him this open, this vulnerable, with just a few words?

He would have to yield if he wanted to get anything done today. And he hated to be beaten by anyone… But he couldn’t find in himself to care all that much because this was the man he had chosen.

His Mummy had told him once that the very first thing that made her realize that his father was _the one_ was the way he could make her feel human.

 

\\\\\\\////

 

“He was the heart to my mind. That’s what we need to find my dear, our hearts… And they are out there, completely unassuming. Unable to tell that there is a bigger purpose for their lives… And when they come upon us, they create havoc in our well ordered routines, questioning us, making us _care_ …”

Their mother never quite recovered from losing her father due to cardiac failure, which she had always found ironic. But she never stopped insisting her sons go out and find their mates.

“It’s all worth it, my boy. I tell you because you are like me. When I met your father… five minutes after he got inside my office, I was ready to throttle him. He came all the way to the Service to tell me that he wanted to go over the intel again. He was ready to fight me on every point of my analysis… He lost, of course, and the day after he came again with flowers… And even after he saw me trash them the very moment he gave them to me he kept coming… That’s when I knew that I couldn’t win…”

She had smiled with a genuine gesture at those words. “Even if I hadn’t had him as many years as I did… Even if it had been only for five minutes… I got my heart, Mycroft… Don’t ever let your heart go if you can help it.”

\\\\\\\////

And now here he was, almost twenty years later, forced to acknowledge that his mother hadn’t just been full of grief when she told him those words. Not that he would ever question his mother up front, of course, but anyone could tell that for all her coldness and inner strength she had lost a lot of herself at his father’s death.

No, as always, Holmeses knew exactly what they were talking about. He wanted to murder the infuriating man trying to make him all hot and bothered. And at the same time he was so tempted to take Greg away from everything that was out there for him and tie him to his bed forever. Mycroft had already planned at least three different ways to get rid of that wife of his.

He knew exactly how much pressure he could exert to make Greg the new superintendant so he wouldn’t have to actually go to that many crime scenes, reducing the risk of him dying earlier than he should. His brain was already placing several much needed CCTV cameras near the places Greg hung out. And he had decided to text Anthea and have the man put under surveillance, so nothing could happen to the yarder without him knowing exactly what it was, how it had occurred and who was to blame for it. He already did it for his brother, and since they were working together surely it wouldn’t be that much of a problem.

He put both hands on his desk and stood up. He needed to calm down, to think rationally about what he was doing… It wasn’t normal to be this concerned over a man that could end up not being his heart after all. An infatuation wasn’t a bad thing _unless_ you were the British Government. The older Holmes decided that the best course of action was to make himself a cup of tea; the innocuous action would help him focus and regain his sense of self.

 _“I found out, soon enough, that I couldn’t be quite myself around him.”_ Those words that came suddenly to his mind, made him shiver. If his mother, who had been the most rational, centered, sane person he had ever met hadn’t been able to keep her act together when she met her husband how could he do it as their son, and only half his mother.

His father had heard her that time and smiled at his wife.

“That was because I enchanted you!” He said full of confidence.

“Please, James, don’t say such nonsense in front of Mycroft!”

The man had looked at him, his eyes warm with affection and had sat down at his side and given him a hug. He had always been the most affectionate of them all, although Sherlock was close.

“One day, Mycroft, someone will charm you, too. So I want you to remember, first of all, it can’t be fought who you fall for. Secondly you are the son of your mother, you’ll know exactly what to do and third you are my son, so it will be someone wonderful!” And then he had given him a kiss on the forehead and stood up to go and kiss his wife on the lips.

“He’ll find it when he is ready, love. Stop worrying about it.”

But she hadn’t, she couldn’t, he found out. Because she loved her family and it pained her to think that her children would go on being just a mind without a heart, without the anchor that kept them from becoming too detached from everyone else.

Well, she wouldn’t have to worry anymore, that much was becoming painfully obvious, he thought while pouring the hot beverage. But there were still so many things he had to work out. There were so many complications he could foresee… And he still had to take care of those missions for the MI6.

For a moment, in the privacy of his office, the older Holmes gave himself the luxury of sighing. And then, with the steaming tea cup in hand he got back to his desk and answered the man who had assaulted his thoughts.

**Please, Gregory, stop. I really have work to do. MH**

That had to be clear enough. He sent it with confidence. A second later there was an answer. He had already given up on the possibility that the man let him have the final word so he wasn’t that surprised, but the message itself worried him.

**Sorry. Won’t trouble you anymore. GL**

Damn, now he had given the detective inspector the wrong idea. He had to act and quickly or all bets would be off. He decided that the only way to clear the air would be to actually speak to the other man, and he pushed the call button.


	3. A naughty ginger fox

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Miss Katrina for being such an amazing beta!

“Mycroft… Thought you were terribly busy from your text.” The tone was somewhere between surprise and intrigue.

“That’s why I’m calling you, Gregory,” he said, once again trying to be concise so the other would finally understand.

“Told you I’d let you alone…”

It was evident Mycroft was failing miserably if that’s what the other thought he had wanted to say. Maybe he would have to remember that the silver haired man was one of those common people who needed far too many words to actually catch what was being told to him.

“That was not what I intended with my last message, Gregory, unless you prefer to… cancel that dinner invitation.” The older Holmes let a little hesitation show in his voice. Because even if there was nothing that pointed to the other man having a change of heart his last message certainly showed that there was chance.

“I thought that was what you wanted, with all those short and cold answers. You know... it sounded a lot like ‘get lost’ to me.” The voice was sharper now, a little exasperated.

Maybe he should have considered his responses a bit better, but they had been honest and accurate. He wouldn’t have them indulge in any sort of petting while there was still a wife out there. He knew that the man had work to attend to and so did he so they both had to go back to it.

“That was by no mean what I was trying to achieve, Gregory.”

“Then, pray tell me, Mycroft, because I’m pretty much lost here. _W _hat in the world did you want to say?__ ”

This was one of those moments that the older Holmes hated with all of his might because he had to make a decision without appropriate and complete intel. This could backfire badly if handled the wrong way… but then it had already gone off track. It would be better to address the whole of the situation immediately.

“I’ve a very demanding job. My superiors are waiting for a very long, detailed… audit that I have to write and send them before tomorrow morning. Thus, I really need to get back to it and your texts they… made it pretty much _impossible_ for me to do so…” He confessed finally, lowering his voice at the last part as if in fear they could be heard by anyone other than the intended person on the other side of the line.

“So you _liked_ them.” The man’s voice changed once more, now it was laced with awe and self pride.

“Yes.” The answer was a simple one this time. And his traitorous body decided to act once more on the thoughts that had been planted by the other’s earlier texts.

“Then you should indulge yourself, Mycroft… You know, take the edge off… it would help you focus…” His voice had gotten dark and tempting. “It would _help me_ focus.”

The man certainly knew what he was playing at, the older Holmes found almost alarmed. He had been surprised once more and it was just too many times not to be concerned.

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Mycroft… Your soft looking hair, those thin, sinful lips of yours… your naughty tongue…”

“What… _what are you playing at_ , Detective Inspector?” He couldn’t help himself. It was too much, all those words making him hard, harder than he had ever been…

“Mmm… don’t need to get all defensive on me, _Ginger Fox_ …” he said softly, as if his words could caress the other through the phone and hush his breathing. “I just want to help you get back to your all-important work less... _flustered_ … I can imagine you… with your perfectly neat three piece suit and that black umbrella of yours at your side…”

The older Holmes gulped audibly.

“Go ahead, Mycroft, _let me give this to you_ …” Greg breathed in his ear.

The trousers of the “civil servant” he pretended to be tightened at the other’s whispers and promises. He wanted so badly to do something, to make the sensations so akin to pain and yet not actually hurtful, go away.

He had experienced physical desire before, of course, but it had never been this strong. He had never wanted to experience release so badly before. But it was… it was completely inappropriate to do so in his office. It wasn’t fair; the yarder seemed not to have any shame about doing this type of thing at his place of work.

“Gregory…” He mumbled, his brain already fighting his body and losing little by little.

“That’s more like it, Mycroft… Now let me talk you to orgasm, Ginger Fox… It’s been so long since I had a male lover…. You probably know all about it but I wanted for you to _hear it_ _from me_.”

He hadn't known it at all. He had found out the moment he had studied the man. The report had been very inaccurate in that regard… He would deal with those responsible later.

The older Holmes refused to say anything at all, but his ragged breathing told the other what he needed to know.

“Have you ever done it like this, Mycroft? Have you come just by having someone whispering dirty things in your ear?”

The man was getting more and more daring and his traitorous body seemed to be forgetting everything about being decorous. Maybe he had starved it for too long?

“ _Gregory_ …” He pleaded for the other to... stop his sensual assault? To keep going? It wasn't like him to feel this _confused_.

“Hush, its okay my ginger fox… _let go_ …” It was so easy for him so say.

“Open that… tightly closed fly of yours and take yourself in hand… As you know you want to… As I am doing… right now.”

Mycroft could swear he could hear the sound of the other’s zipper, and it was so much… entirely too much for _him_ … The knowledge that the detective inspector was about to touch himself while talking to him was enough to finally make Mycroft lose all control over his desire. He came, without being touched, just by hearing the silver haired man's heated words.

It would be fantastic if he didn’t feel somewhat humiliated. He refused to say a word. It was only fair he let the other man have his pleasure too… He could endure a few moments of discomfort, since he had a proper bathroom with a shower and several clean and perfectly neat suits in a closet at his disposal. But once again, the yarder had a surprise in store for him.

“Have you already come, Mycroft?” he asked softly, sounding satisfied and it made the older Holmes almost groan with indignation. “You are a naughty ginger fox, aren’t you? I’ll take care of myself now…” he said. “Then I’ll call that lawyer that your PA said I should contact…”

Those words were even better that anything he had heard so far… And he would have to do something nice for Anthea. Once he could think clearly again, that is. Sometimes, it was a little terrifying to have an assistant who was so smart, resourceful and resolute… Other times, like this one it was just perfect.

“And you better finish that urgent thing you had to do. Because once I’ve submitted the papers tomorrow and they’ve gone through, my beautiful Mycroft… we’ll go to that dinner and after that… I won’t let you go. For. A. Whole. Night… I will taste you from head to toes. I’ll take you in my hand and make you squirm and beg me to let you have some release... I’ll prepare you most carefully… making sure your body is ready for me… and I’ll mount you, my ginger fox… _I'll. Make. You. Mine_ ,” he said at last and the older Holmes could tell that the man had come too.

He felt a strange set of feelings wash over him. Those vivid pictures that Gregory had painted would certainly be difficult to erase from his mind for the time being. But he really did feel better now, more at ease with himself. Still sticky, but in control once again, of his own thoughts. He hated to admit it but the older man had certainly been right about his need to have this… time out. But, he was nothing if not fair with the man he wanted.

“Thank you, Gregory,” he said almost shyly.

“You are more than welcome, beautiful.”

It would take a time for him to get used to any kind of endearment, since the only people who had even given them to him without a hidden agenda had been his parents and his brother. Somehow, he knew he shouldn’t have to say that to the man at the other end of the line.

“I… really need to take care of things…” he said, more slowly, almost relaxed.

“Of course, Mycroft. Go ahead, clean yourself up and go get them ginger fox… see you really soon.” His voice was still raged and his breath hadn't quite caught up, but he was getting there.

“Of course…”

He had power enough to make the detective's the speediest divorce in the whole of Britain and he would use it. On Friday night, two days from now, the man would be free and they would be able to sate each other's desire. This had only been a teaser, he could tell that much.

“I’ll send you the car on the twentieth, at eight,” he said simply, letting the other know what he had already resolved. “I must go now, Gregory.”

“See you then, Mycroft.” The other man was the one who severed the connection first, but that didn’t bother Mycroft in the least.

The older Holmes stood up and went to the take that much needed, if very quick, shower.

While he was under the spray an idea came to him. If Gregory wanted to do all those things to him—which he wasn’t opposed to in the least—the best course of action would be to take Gregory to his home.

Having solved that issue, he got out, toweled himself off, redressed, this time in a new lighter-colored three piece suit and walked off to the main part of his office ready to solve that little MI6 problem at once. He had a very nice incentive to move things along now. He had to take a whole night off for his heart to lay claim to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer for the whole series: The characters belong to ACD the contemporary setting belong to BBC network. The story is mine and I'm just playing here...


End file.
